I was just changing my clothes after getting home when the phone rang. It was my daughter, M______, upset and asking me to please take her dictation and publish this in the Blog.
Anyway, here is her speech, somewhat intact (Hey, I don't know shorthand, okay?)
"I am very, VERY upset with what I have inherited from you! Namely, my resilient gray hair! It refuses to be dyed, refuses to be cut, refuses to be styled and, in general, is a huge pain in the a__!
Anyway, she said, "I can blame some things on my Mom (big hips) but this is all your fault! Being a person with gray hair at 37 years old just p*sses me off." [Captain's note: She's right: My family do not traditionally have big hips. Also, I did NOT mention I had some gray hair before I was 25]
She said today was a "grooming day" [like CaptainK would know what that means?] and not only the gray hair is causing her concern, but "there is the mustache issue, the fact that I can shave my legs and the next day I have black stubble and, worst of all, I have hair growing on my feet like a werewolf!"
"Please, somebody just shoot me with a silver bullet!"
We commiserated for a bit and she hung up to make dinner for Dave, er, I mean D____.
I am still not certain of all of the ramifications of our conversation... But I promised to publish it.